‘I’m sorry,’ Portia repeated, an unattractive puce spreading in a rash down her neck. ‘Put it down to shock at the news. I like to think everything can be explained away.’

The click of the kettle switching off removed the need to reply. In silence, Allison heated the teapot, dropped in a teabag and poured the boiling water. ‘Tea always seems oddly appropriate, doesn’t it?’ She was aware her words were anything but… too calm, too normal. Putting the pot on the table, she returned for the mugs and a jug of milk, ignoring the eyes that followed her every move.

There were no words exchanged as they sat drinking tea. Allison stared into her mug, watching the level drop as she sipped, only reaching for the teapot to top it up when it neared the bottom. When she tilted the pot and a single drip wobbled from the spout, she sighed and put the teapot down so heavily the lid rattled. ‘Only three months married and only a few weeks before that—’

‘Eight,’ Portia interrupted.

‘What?’

‘You only knew him eight weeks before you were married. I remember we thought you were crazy.’

We. Portia and Stuart with their boring, small-minded attitude to anything outside the narrow, wealthy social chink they inhabited. Allison struggled to contain her anger. ‘We knew we wanted to be together; there didn’t seem any point in waiting. And, despite what you think, we were happy. Incredibly happy.’ Her voice hitched on the last two words.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Portia shook her head. ‘I’m not being much support, am I?’

Allison drew a shuddering breath and let the anger out on the exhaled sigh. There was no point in being mad with Portia. Her wealth had removed her from what was, at times, the grim, grating, utter crassness of life. Unlike her, Allison had been forced to make her own luck. ‘We may not have had much of a past, but we should have had a wonderful future.’

There were only so many ways to apologise. Wisely, Portia didn’t attempt any one of the euphemisms or clichés that were waiting to spill from her all-too-often loose lips. That she was finding it difficult to stay quiet would at any other time have made Allison smile. She wasn’t sure she was ever going to smile again. ‘I’m going to the morgue tomorrow to identify his body.’

‘Is that really necessary?’

‘The detectives said it wasn’t because they found his wallet. They said they’d have used dental records to confirm if I didn’t feel up to seeing him.’ Allison used her thumb and first finger to wipe the tears from her eyes and wiped her fingers on the sleeve of her dress. ‘I have to see him… I need to see him.’

‘To believe?’